Improbable, but Definitely Possible
by ravenclawslytherin24
Summary: Nobody intends to get pregnant at fifteen. I, Lily Luna Potter, especially did not expect to get pregnant with Scorpius Malfoy's baby. Hey, but maybe the person who hates me isn't the real Scorpius Malfoy, and the real Scorpius is a lovely person.
1. Chapter 1

"Oi! AL POTTER, I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS," my ever-so-well-behaved cousin Fred screams spewing bacon bits all over his surrounding neighbors and causing half of the great hall to turn and stare. Of course, neither Fred or Al notice this. Fred picks up a piece and chucks it down the Gryffindor table, with, as expected, terrible aim.

"Heads up!" Rose yells down the table, shooting Fred dirty looks. "IF I SEE YOU THROW A PIECE OF TOAST AGAIN, I AM WRITING A LETTER TO YOUR MOTHER!" the entire table cracks up, including Rose, after a few seconds.

"When have you ever sent a letter to my mother?" fred asked, grinning, as rose scowled.

"You don't want to know, " she replied right before dodging the piece of toast, which came flying back from Al's side of the table. Eying the piece of toast, fred plucks it off the table and takes a bite, leading to a collective "ew" echoing through the morning air, and half of the Weasley Potter family shook our heads.

My cousins are absolutely gross, and my brother is one of the biggest offenders. When James and Dom left last year, we all wondered if things would become quieter at Hogwarts.

Needless to say, they didn't.

"Man, Fred, I wouldn't eat that," Louis, who is a year my junior, looked wary. "You might get isophoniallielliellius."

"What the hell is isofunawhatawhatagus?" Fred replied with a mouthful of flithy toast.

"I am 100.5% percent certain he just made that up," Hugo explained from my left side, while eating his breakfast in a civilized manner.

"Yeah, well, I am 150% sure it's true," Louis replied quickly as the rest of my family and the surrounding Gryffinors shoved food into their mouths.

"Yeah, well, I think bludaduphalouglomp," Fred added with a mouthful of bacon, spitting it onto all of the surrounding people, including me. I stare at the wet Fred-mouth bacon on my sweater and I feel like I'm going to vomit.

"Lily, you ok? You look, uh, pale," Molly asked.

"Lovely," I grit my teeth.

Actually, i think I am going to vomit, so instead of vomiting at breakfast, I climb out of my seat and run out of the hall, definitely beating a sprinting record, until I reach the nearest girl's bathroom, where I empty the content of my stomach into a shiny toilet.

"Damn it," I curse, pulling back my hair, as I hear footsteps running into the bathroom.

"Lily?" Roxanne asks, and I kicked open the door behind me as I slide down against the side of the stall, sweating, before pulling my hair back and finishing vomiting. That girl is a lifesaver: Hugo Weasley is my best friend, until the world ends, but Roxanne is right up on that list. "Are you sick?"

"No, this is perfectly normal," I reply sarcastically, freaking out inside my head. I missed my period last month, and I should have it about now. That fact alone didn't scare me, just made my happy: I hate my period and, besides, I was irregular for years before ending up on a regular schedule. But six days ago, I started throwing up every day, and feeling naseous a lot, but otherwise fine, and nothing was even going around. I, Lily Luna Potter, don't get sick. Everyone in my dorm will have the flu or something, and I'll be perfectly fine. Missing periods and throwing up every day?

Could I be pregnant?

In late September, I slept with someone, and it was a mistake and a one-night stand. If I'm pregnant, I will be killed by my family, and he will be killed by both of my brothers. And me, a mother? That's like, as unexpected as Fred and Al doing the tango naked standing on top of the Gryffindor table. Actually, I think the naked tango is more realistic. I begin to cry as Roxie sits beside me.

"I think I have a stomach bug," I lie as to not have to reveal my suspicions, as Roxie puts her arm around me.

"Nothing to cry about, Lils," she pats my back, "especially since you've got OWL classes to get to." She's right from what she knows so I wipe my eyes and lower my head, still feeling naseous.

"I know, and I don't wanna make you late, so go ahead," I assure Roxie.

"You sure?" she replies.

"Yeah, " I say, and we both stand up, and she says goodbye and rushes out as i stand in front of the mirrors. I've got red hair and a splothcy face: I look fifteen. I don't look like a mother, or like a grown woman. I don't know how to be a mother! Hell, when I was about seven, I used to drop my baby dolls headfirst out my window. I only stopped that six years ago! How can i have a real, living baby? "Lily, stop panicking," I tell my reflection. Yep, I've definitely gone off the wall. "You have to do the spell! You remember how to do the damn spell, right? You found it when you were like twelve, but I know you remember it. Just say it. Bitch!" I spit at my reflection, angry at the girl who got me pregnant, before taking my wand out of my pocket with a shaking hand, pointing it at myself.

"Ignesio Pregnesis," I whisper, shutting my eyes. I know that it will be written on my hand, in pink for yes.

If I am pregnant, I'll have to tell my family at some point. Scorpius Malfoy will probably be killed by James, with Al there to mutilate his body and Louis, too, because Scorpius hexed him in the hall once. So Malfoy will be in pieces, which my mother and father will probably hide across Europe to cover for their sons.

Ew.

Fred and Dom will definitely find out, and there'll be patrols around Europe to make sure the bodies are neatly hidden. However, eventually the muggle police will catch them all, somehow realize they're magical, and it's be the Salem Witch Trials all over again. This will cause mass uproar, the complete exposure of the wizarding world, and I will move to south America and become a nun.

IS THIS PREGNANCY BRAIN?

Only one way to answer that, mind-Lily. I, body-Lily, am going to open my eyes. But remember, I'm doing this for you, darling.

My arm says "Pregnant."

Oh Merlin, it's the beginning of the Salem Witch Trials.


	2. Chapter 2

_Welcome Yingyang Taurus Malfoy to the world! That's what the sign says as I watch someone with Voldemort's head holding my baby boy. Draco Malfoy's screaming at me at the top of his lungs, but I can't move and save my baby from Voldemort-head. Flash backwards in time to flash mobs in London and wizards killing Muggles as I read clips in the newspaper from somewhere in Australia. Fast forward to being surrounded by James and Al and Rose and Roxie and Hugo yelling "YOUR CHILD IS EVIL!" and "That's what happens when you sleep with a Malfoy!" Flash forward years in time to Yingyang Taurus Malfoy setting the world on fire as I hide behind a rock. The fire rages towards me, so I roll off the rock, and down the cliff I am falling, falling, down, down, down..._

Flash to the _real world_ and I'm lying on the floor.

"Morning, Lily," Brennan Finnigan laugh/whispers at me as I glare and hop back onto my chair, burying my head in my hands. Just a dream, I pant. Just a dream. I did not name my kid Yingyang Taurus, the world is not on fire, and there are no Malfoys anywhere. Everything's normal: I'm sitting in History of Magic, spacing out, like I do a couple times a week. I am surrounded by fifth year gryffindors, all messing around in the midst of a boring class. Normal.

Except I think I might throw up again. And, oh yeah, just by the way, I'm PREGNANT.

"Lily, what was on the floor?" Hugo asks amusedly and I growl.

"Nothing. Just a dream. Am I not allowed to sleep anymore?" He makes a scoffing noise and I hear my cousin settling back into his chair as nI do not remove my face from my hands.

It's impossible that I'm pregnant. That test must be wrong.

No, it's right, reasonable-Lily explains. Throwing up, missing periods, and that damn test: you're definitely pregnant, and it's definitely Scorpius's.

Is it possible to get pregnant from a toilet seat? Someone told me that when I was about twelve, so i never really fully sit on the seat. I never use the first bit of toilet paper I pull off the rack, either, just in case. I am such a paranoid, careful person. SO HOW THE HELL DID I GET PREGNANT WITH SCORPIUS MALFOY'S BABY? He didn't even have to seduce me, and I wasn't even drunk. It would be better if I had been drunk. It would be better if I couldn't remember it. It would be better if I got pregnant from that damn toilet seat. I would be innocent, and it would be easy, because it would be the truth, and it wouldn't be my fault. But this is all my fault. I said yes to Scorpius, and perhaps I even pushed it upon him. It's my fault. I'm such a slut, and now I'm paying for it.

"Shit!" I curse aloud as tears roll down my cheeks, hidden in the darkness behind my hands. "It's Friday, isn't it, Hugo?"

"Yes," he replies, but I knew the answer. "Big match tomorrow!" I can picture him grinning, daydreaming of a Quidditch win. Poor Hugo looks a lot like me, with red hair and freckles, but he is the opposite of athletic, and I'm not a bad Chaser.

I'm a chaser. Chasers get hit with Bludgers. And we play Hufflepuff tomorrow, and Hufflepuff is actually really good. Especially the beaters. And I'm pregnant! What if I get hit in the stomach? It's not safe for me or my child: I can't play. I've got to tell Fred I can't play.

But he won't let me not play unless I'm dying, and I can't tell him the truth. Telling Fred is like telling the entire school, plus the entire professional Quidditch circle and every easy blonde girl in the British Isles. Plus, we can't not beat Hufflepuff: I mean, they're so puffy and happy. We have to crush them. And we don't have any reserves, because if we did I could just drop out.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

I got pregnant in the last week of september, and it's the first week of December: I can't be ten weeks pregnant! IS IT REALLY HEALTHY TO PLAY QUIDDITCH WHEN I'M TEN WEEKS PREGNANT?

I know it's not, but a voice inside of me is screaming: the same voice that screams at me to eat chocolate when I'm already stuffed and break curfew. It's not a good voice, but it's screaming QUIDDITCH. Or maybe that's Hugo: he's saying something weird to me, and I'm not paying attention. I don't take the tears out of my eyes, but I stay silent: It's History of Magic, so you can pretty much do whatever you want, short of blowing up the room, though James and Al actually tried that once. It worked. They were never caught. If they attack me for getting pregnant, you bet I'm telling on them.

We've been in this damn class all afternoon: ever since lunch. Why can't it just be over so I can go...make a plan, or the remnants of one? The seedlings of something...What do I do with a baby? HOW I AM I PREGNANT? I think I might need to draw myself a diagram.

"Uh, Lils," Hugo sounds like he's about to crack up, "class just ended." I hear sniggering from around the room as I hide my face with my hands in the middle of the room after class, looking like a total freak.

"Uh, yes," I mumble, taking my hands off of my eyes to grab my stuff, tilting my hair over my face so nobody will see my red eyes. I pick my things off te desk and from the back of my chair before dashing out of the room as quickly as possible. I break a sprinting record to the nearest deserted classroom: I used to linger in these ugly places in about second year, so i know of every unused classroom in the building. I lean against the door, sitting down on the floor with my hands around my knees.

Pregnant. Me. Words are floating around my mind.

I can't tell Scorpius, can I? I mean, I don't even know Scorpius! I mean, I talked to him for like an hour, but besides that, we never talked at all. Maybe I said "excuse me" once when I was rushing to get to some class, but that's all. Besides, we haven't spoken in over two months: since THAT NIGHT. But sooner or later, i'll have to tell him, and it's got to be sooner instead of later. I mean, I can't pop up in seven months and say "Surprise! I'm having your kid in a week!" So he's got to know eventually, and eventually I'll actually have to talk to the Malfoys: the ones I've been hearing about since childhood, and not using the nicest tones of voice. I bet the Malfoys are going to take me to court for...something, and take all of my money, and then I'll be broke and I won't be able to even move to South America.

But something inside of my leaps at the idea of not moving to South America. Maybe my unborn child can read my mind, and doesn't like South America.

Oh no, my child is going to turn into Yingyang and destroy the world.

"Relax," I whisper to myself, "Your kid won't be evil, if you even have it, and stop making up shit scenarios." I'm right, like always. But I am pregnant, like women are in fantasy, glowing in reality, surrounded by happiness. But my child is surrounded by uncertainty: the uncertainty of a family who always wanted something better for his or her mother.

I'm ten weeks pregnant, and to be honest, the only thing I know is that women usually start showing their pregnancies at ten or twelve weeks. Don't ask me how I know it, because I think some ironic, sadistic future-telling demon might have planted it my brain. Oh Merlin, in two weeks or less, everyone is going to be able to tell that I'm having a baby.

So how the flying fuck did this happen, anyways?

Come to think of it, I don't really know.

Well, I was pissed off at Albus at the time, and so when I was wandering outside, I decided to sit next to and chat with his archenemy, Scorpius Malfoy, instead of attacking him cowardly. So we talked, and we talked, and I'm being so vague because I don't remember what we were talking about, and then we came inside and went into an abandoned classroom, and talked, and then I kissed him and he was my second kiss. The rest is history, and it was stupid, and spur of the moment. Obviously. In hindsight, I don't really know what was wrong with me: am I really just the kind of girl who would sleep with anyone and then forget why?

Let's not answer that, eh?

_

"LILY! YOU CANNOT EAT THAT BISCUIT!" Fred yells as I butter a biscuit and glare at him. I don't think he realizes quite how annoying he is, but he believes what we eat for dinner will decide the outcome of tomorrow's match.

"I'm going to eat this biscuit whether you like it or not," I narrow my eyes at him and shove it in my mouth. I don't care that he has no idea that I'm pregnant: I'm not letting him get in the way of my pregnancy cravings. This is about my fifth biscuit, so at this point, my kid's going to pop out as a wheat plant.

"Merlin, you won't," Al looks like he's going to crack up as he watches Fred lunge across the table for the biscuit. I snatch it away and pluck about half of it in my mouth in one bite. "You're going to get fa-aa-at," Fred whines and threatens at the same time. I can't believe he's seventeen years old: a legal adult. "If you gain any more weight, that broomstick won't be able to get off the ground," he jokes, so I pick up a biscuit and chuck it at him, full strength, about to cry. Hormonal changes are a bitch, aren't they?

"Let me guess, you have our breakfasts planned too?" Elizabeth Aldrin, a fellow chaser, mumbles from my right.

"Yeah, I do," Fred replies as everyone snickers. "You're going to have scrambled eggs, an orange, and a biscuit with butter."

"Why does she get a fucking biscuit and I don't?" I ask, once again feeling tears in my eyes and mentally cursing hormones, pregnancy, that stupid pregnancy spell, my fertility, and most of all, Scorpius Malfoy and his sperm.

"Lily, just eat the biscuit," Roxie mediates. Sometimes it feels as though she's about five years older than the rest of us.

"I don't want one right now! I've had, like, ten of them!" I exclaim.

"Then why are you making such a big deal out of them?" Louis asks, looking up from a betting sheet on the results of tomorrow's match.

"Because if I want to eat a biscuit, I'm going to eat a biscuit, no matter what he says," I narrow my eyes at Fred.

"OKAY!" Fred changes the topic. "I'm here, Elizabeth's here, Lily's here, unfortunately," I glare, "Al here, Rose's here, Brennan's here, and uh, who am I missing?"

"Me," Lysander Scamander, who's in second year and is our youngest teammate, replies. He's in Gryffindor (obviously, since he's on our Quidditch team), but his brother's a Ravenclaw, like his mum.

"You're all going straight to bed after dinner," Fred orders us, and Brennan and I, who have OWLS to study for, groan.

"But, it's going to be seven, maybe," Lysander replies, "Nargles will get you if you go to bed too early." We all roll our eyes sarcastially: nobody knows what a Nargle is. Apparently, it's invisible. Maybe it's Lorcan. You rarely see him around.

"Yeah, Fred, we don't wants Nargles to get us," I nod enthusiastially. "You know, that would suck." Lysander looks bright and enthusiastic, and I roll my eyes to Hugo and Elizabeth.

"Whatever, as long as you sleep, because when we win, we'll party, but if we lose, we're going to duel, the whole lot of us," Fred sounds as though vaguely attempting to threaten us. However, at the moment, a certain blonde wanders over to us, and my heart freezes. Like every other time I've him, hair is all over his eyes, and he looks like a bum, a mix of a bum and a tall Quidditch player. I glance at him, not even trying not to stare, just looking, wondering if his son or daughter will resemble him or me.

"Oi, can't decide whether to root for you lot or the 'Puffs," he pauses with a nasty grin on his face, "I daresay that lot can probably stay on a broom better," Al turns a bright red as Malfoy says that, but thankfully he's turned away from Malfoy. In first year, Al kind of fell off the broom at flying lessons: however, he flies as well as Malfoy now.

"We're going to fucking defeat, Malfoy!" Fred practically yells in his ear. Fred, Al, and Rose are all in his year, and all despise him; go figure.

"Oh, I dunno, what do you think, Rosie?" I vomit a little in my mouth and tears spring to my eyes as he flirts with my cousin. I know he's flirting, and joking, and trying to demean her, but still: it's him.

"I think you should go back to Azbakan, where your Death Eater father belongs," Rose replies coolly, and everyone laughs. Rose does not stand up to people like that, but Malfoy isn't technically a person: she's been smart-assing him since first year, I've heard.

"Yes, well," Malfoy glares at me with one eye and Al with the other eye, "With all of those damn laws your father has passed, I'm surprised there's anyone in Azkaban," he replies coldly, glaring at me directly, and I finally burst into tears and run out of the Great Hall. Instead of retreating to my typical deserted halls and classrooms, I run up about twenty flights of stairs to Gryffindor tower, mumble the password, and push through the deserted common room until I reach the 5th year dorm. I crumble freely into a heap on my bed and sob: how am I having a Malfoy baby? What did I ever see in him for those few minutes?

Well, he was handsome, confident, educated, and mature, which I hadn't been exposed to all summer and not with the guys in my year, anyways.

But he's now a complete asshole! I would rather a thestral father my baby than Malfoy. Or a toilet seat. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I actually did get pegnant from a toilet seat? I would be a virgin, and innocent virgin. He's so much like his father, it's ridiculous. He's like the whole damn Malfoy family, everything I've ever heard about them. It's like I slept with a dementor, or some kind of monster, or all of the Death Eaters combined. It's like, I slept with the antichrist. Or maybe I am the antichrist, which is why I have this fate.

So I clutch my stomach, curl up into a ball and cry, out of fear and uncertainty and hurt, because soon, I will stand alone, and I will have to admit who I really am. Maybe that's just a girl who made I mistake, but maybe that is the whispers that haunt me, that I'm a slut, a liar, someone with no loyalties. How can I be a mother?

Suddenly, nausea kicks in again, and I resent my child for this: okay, kid, you wanted biscuits, and now you don't like them anymore? How indecisive and unpredictable, meaning you're pretty much like all of the people in my life. Wonderful, have you decided to take traits from your family already? Greaat. I run into the bathroom just in time to puke my guts out into this toilet. Wow, pregnancy sure is fun, I can't help but think as tears roll down my cheeks. It's about as fun as a History of Magic class on the day of Quidditch tryouts right before a big test.

I take deep breaths, wipe my entire face with my sleeve, and flush as footsteps enter the dorm. It could be Roxie, or Elizabeth, or it could be Hannah Wood or the ever-so-undergound-highly-suspicious-and-possibly-dangerous-or-illegal-in-the-muggle-world Marina Everett.

"Lily, what the fucking fuck are you doing on the floor?" Of course, it's Marina, just when I need her, eh? She's got dyed hair and black makeup along with a rather, erm, interesting attitude.

"Uhh...dancing?" I reply with the first thing I could think of.

"Why would you be dancing?" Marina asks curiously. "especially on the _floor_."

"Because I like to dance!" I defend as Roxie rushes in.

"I've been looking at over for you!" Roxie exclaims as she rushes into the bathroom. "Guess who got a fist in the face?"

"Didn't know you were the type to knock 'em, Weasley," Marina mumbles from the other room.

"I didn't, actually," Roxie replies cheerfully.

"Wait, Al punched someone?" That was hard to believe, but he seemed like the most likely option, as Scorpius had started to have a go at our father.

"Nah, it was Fred," Roxie paused as I inched away from the toilet as to look less suspicious. I kind of figured it was Fred, though, because he was much bolder than Al or I. I bet James would be so ashamed of the both of us: our family being insulted by a Malfoy and us just taking it silently. He'd probably be more ashamed that I was pregnant with the enemy's baby, though. Thankfully, he graduated, or else my baby daddy would probably be in several pieces at this point. "He's such an asshole, isn't he?"

"No! Scorpius deserved it," I defend my cousin and Roxie's brother.

"No, Scorpius's an asshole," Roxie replies. Oh, well, duh, I think. Of course you didn't think Fred was an asshole.

"Scorpius Malfoy? Oh, I'm dating him," I feel naseous as Marina replies, and I jump up from the ground.

"No fucking way!" I reply loudly.

"Yeah, I don't even know who the guy is," she smirks at me. Well, she should know: she should be in the same house as him!

"He's only the most evil person at Hogwarts," Roxie replies, dramatically and Marina laughs. "Oh, Lily, Fred told me to tell you that you need to go to bed or he's going to kill you tomorrow." I roll my eyes and jump onto my bed.

"If he wants me to go to bed, you can turn out the lights," Roxie growls at the idea of not being able to finish homework up here, and turns out the light as she and Marina exit the room.

I climb under the covers and pull my shirt up, putting my hands on my stomach. I can't feel my baby yet, but I know that he or she is sleeping soundly, and probably even has a head now, and feet, and is beginning to blossom into a human being. He or she'll be a real human being. I try to detect a heartbeat or movement, but I feel nothing. Yet something tells me that something definitely there: my child.

"Hey, sweetie, wish mommy luck tomorrow. She's gonna need a lot of help at Quidditch so she doesn't get hurt," I coo at my baby, though I know he or she doesn't speak English yet. "I hope your daddy doesn't turn out too evil when I tell him about you, but you're a secret for now," I pause. "I'm going to have to tell Grandma and Grandpa about you at Christmas though, since I won't get another chance 'til April, and I've got to give them more than two months to get used to you. Besides, everyone's going to see you soon, but it'll be fine." For a minute, I feel like a real mother, comforting my child. I've only known him or her for less than a day, but I feel something, like protectiveness, or love. 


End file.
